


FFXVWeek 2017

by CrabOfDoom



Category: Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy XV
Genre: AU, Genderfluid, Intersex, M/M, Multi, Other, Polyamory, Trauma triggers, Veer from Canon, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 01:45:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11864061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrabOfDoom/pseuds/CrabOfDoom
Summary: A collection of drabbles for FFXVWeek on tumblr, based on writing prompts.





	FFXVWeek 2017

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 was twice as long as the longest drabble here, was frankly unrelated to the loose AU threads that bind [most of] these, and so got it's own post as "Alternate Endings". This collection are the shorter drabbles that preceded it, all in one place. They all take place post-Chapter 13 and pre-Noctis'-return, as sort of unofficial extensions to "Breath After Breath".

* * *

**_Fashion_ **

* * *

 

There were surely strangers groups making the rounds of Altissia’s posh and stylish night spots. It was probably just hard to see them, from being unquestionably the tallest party in every one of them.

Ravus’ walk was a carefree swaying of his hips through every door, past every window. Hard years in the Niflheim military had driven a young prince’s sense of entitlement-by-birth from his conscious thoughts, and left his absolutely visible pleasure stemming entirely from the unique and exclusive candy always on his arm and by his side.

The First Son of Tenebrae was dressed minimally in impeccably tailored black trousers and a white tuxedo shirt, a violet silk scarf just a shade softer than his left eye around his neck and under the tips of his shirt collar, held in place by the jeweled brooch of his family’s crest. The French cuff of his left sleeve hung down, unfolded and unfastened, to cover the dark glove on his hand when he wasn’t in need of its use. It was regarded as eccentricity, and Ravus was fine with that.

He could tell when the eyes around his three-piece party were on him. Tonight, he didn’t mind it as much as he might’ve in daylight. The attention, however, seemed to be an even three-way split.

On the prince’s arm and unintentionally looking every bit like the trophy escort that many of the clubbing Altissian models were, was a General. Safay’s mottled charcoal sweater dress with its cowl-neck collar was meant to be loose on a woman, and clung to his well-muscled physique. The hemline of the lowered waistband was only low enough on his tall frame to keep his black high-cut underwear from being visible. Opaque and equally dark thigh-high stockings nearly met that hemline, with a couple of inches’ gap that revealed bare, pale skin and a glimpse of thickly honed thigh muscles. The stockings disappeared in gray patent leather above-the-knee boots with high smoky quartz acrylic heels. The added inches allowed the six-foot-six soldier to easily tower over anyone else in a room. It was quite effective at scaring away uninvited gropes. Safay was entirely without jewelry, save for the twin pierced bars that were hidden on his chest, beneath the dress. Ravus doubted that there were any gems in Accordo that could’ve had more impact than Safay’s natural lashes and the bright, transparent violet gloss on his lips.

At the prince’s side, was the Glaive. Tall and broad, Libertus was obvious in his unfamiliarity with being on display, but it never translated as unease. His freshly-tailored blazer of faded black linen hung well on his strong shoulders and over a fine cotton gray dress shirt. He wore no tie around his thick neck, and indeed left the collar open far enough for the eyes of women and men, alike to draw down to the start of the earthy brown hair on his chest. Libertus still wasn’t clean-shaven, but that was hardly a sin in modern fashion. The Galahdian plaits that kept his shoulder-length hair out of his face tied together with a modest length of black velvet ribbon, with tails left to hang without a bow, and a simple pocket square of the same violet on Safay’s lips and around Ravus’ neck tied him in as part of their close and very hands-on group. Libertus could’ve easily been believable as a royal bodyguard, but his companions ensured that he was seen nothing less than One of Them, between Safay encouraging Libertus’ hands on his bare thighs, and open-mouthed kisses from the prince that tasted lightly and sweetly of warm strawberry juice and cold vodka.

They’d all left their mark on one another for the evening, after all. Ravus had dressed Libertus in something that wasn’t a variation of his uniform, Safay had swept Ravus’ hair back into a small knot with just the right locks hanging free to frame his face, and Libertus had added the fine braids to Safay’s calf-length hair that crossed over one another around the loose, dark silver fall in a large-scale diamond pattern.

Theirs was a party that surely stood out in the Altissian night scene, and that certainly attracted stares and whispers. Halfway through their evening, Libertus relaxed and allowed himself to enjoy the attention, as he noticed that not one of those onlookers was laughing, through their envy.

* * *

_**Camping / Do You Trust Me?** _

* * *

 

“Don’t you people ever use fires at these campsites?”

Ravus sat against a felled tree that he and his companions had hauled up onto the short plateau of rock that was going to be their campsite for the next couple of nights, as well as an informal base of operations and coordination in the field for the other dozen or so hunters, who were encamped on the other side of the boulder outcropping. With, it had to be noted, their legitimate campfires. Ravus could understand the question, as he sat with Safay dozing on his right shoulder, and a Lestallum-made lantern set just past what he could reach, if he were to stretch out his leg.

The lantern was strictly for light, powered by a small but long-lasting meteor shard. It produced no flame, and as a consequence, no noticeable heat in their open surroundings. Being from northern countries, Ravus and Safay found the nights in Cleigne’s wilderness quite manageable, with just thick blanket to share. Ravus watched Libertus rub his hands over his sleeves in an attempt to warm both, and realized that Galahd’s natives didn’t have that same experience and tolerance of the cold, at all.

“No,” Ravus answered simply.

“How do you cook, out here?” Libertus asked, as he took to pacing a bit, just to keep his body heat up.

“We don’t,” Ravus said. “The pack’s full of roasted nuts, dried fruit, dried meat, cheese that doesn’t melt.”

“And you just… live on that,” Libertus said, in quiet astonishment.

“For two, perhaps three days at a time, yes,” Ravus affirmed. “Once the hunt’s spoils are in the trucks and business is settled in Lestallum, we lay waste to a good meal at the Leville.”

“Oh.” Libertus took a moment’s glance at the large, canvas rucksack the sat at the log’s end, full of what was essentially granola. “So, this hippie diet isn’t, like, a way of life, then?”

“Goodness, no,” Ravus chuckled softly. “We’re both far too spoiled on the existence of spices and refrigeration. But it beats the hell out of army rations.”

“Imagine it would,” Libertus granted. “But, why, though? Is it a convenience thing, or a laziness thing?”

“A fire thing,” Ravus answered. He rolled his left shoulder and winced, just from the thought.

It took a moment for Libertus to make the connection.

_“Oh.”_

“There’s… more than just that,” Ravus elaborated, “but it’s not worth reliving it every time, just for marginally warmer feet.”

“Yeah, sorry,” Libertus offered. “I should’ve figured there was a good reason.”

“Laziness would’ve been a good second guess,” Ravus admitted.

The Glaive smiled, and turned his gaze back out over the wilderness beyond the lantern’s ring of light. He again rubbed at his arms.

“It could still be a while, before the biggest things in the hills come to call,” Ravus said. “If you’d be more comfortable around the other hunters’ fires, they wouldn’t turn you away. If you’d rather stay here, Safay’s much like a human hot water bottle to sleep with, if you care to share the blanket at his other side.”

“Sleep with…?” Libertus repeated absently. A darker color graced the bridge of his nose and spread to his cheeks, visible even in the sub-optimal light. “I mean, yeah, of course, I’d rather sleep with you guys.  _Stay_. Gods, I meant ‘stay’.”

Ravus’ brows rose. “Is that a fact?”

“Shit,” Libertus hissed quietly through his teeth and into the darkness. He sighed, and ran a hand over his hair. “You’re pretty, he’s a beauty, you guys tongue each other often enough… a guy’s mind wanders, right?”

“Of course,” Ravus concurred.

“It’s not a disrespect, or anything,” Libertus swore. “You’ve both been good friends to me, and I’d never want to make things weird, or break up a couple.”

“Pffft. We’ve been through enough together that you’d need the world’s biggest crowbar, to wedge yourself in, if you weren’t wanted there.”

“…  _If I weren’t?_ ” Libertus caught.

“Guys’ minds wander, yes?” Ravus tossed back at him.

“Fuck’s sake, Libertus,” Safay grumbled. He didn’t open his eyes, but nuzzled himself into a slightly better position at Ravus’ side. “Come sit next to me, and we can work out details later.”

* * *

  _ **I Lost a Bet**_

* * *

 

“… And  _there_ , it is.”

“No,” Luna whispered. “This can’t be happening.”

“Oh, I assure you,” the General grinned darkly, “it is. And now–”

“I won’t do it,” the princess stated. “Never.”

“But, Your Highness,” Safay said, his voice hissing in an eerie match to the serpentine pupils in his glowing green eyes, “ _we made a bargain_.”

“I didn’t know the horrible, dishonorable monster with which I was speaking.”

The soldier towered over her petite stature, teeth flashing from the shadow of his long bangs as he smiled.

“That is not my problem, O Princess of Tenebrae. If you want to speak of dishonor…”

“Fine,” Luna sighed. “You win.”

“Hmm, address your court, if you don’t mind?” Safay requested, “my most  _honorable_  princess?”

Luna narrowed her eyes at the at the contemptible snake in a human suit. With a huff, she stood from her end of the sofa, and marched petulantly to the open French doors that led to a large balcony. Her voice boomed and echoed through the alleyways below the Leville.

_“I, LUNAFREYA NOX FLEURET, HAVE LOST, 15 to 3, AT CHOCOBOX BASEBALL TO MY IDIOT BROTHER’S LOATHSOME CHEATING WEASEL OF A BOYFRIEND.”_

She snorted a breath when she finished, her face flushed red with adrenaline and irritation. Luna ignored the men who had until that moment had been sitting in the balcony’s chairs in peaceful conversation, their nearly unanimous and simultaneous spit-takes of wine and beer from the surprise of her outburst, and grabbed a brown bottle from the large bucket of ice for herself. 

“What the living hell was that?” Ignis was first to ask.

From inside the suite, in the sofa’s middle where he’d watched the game unfold in silent amusement, Ravus called out “she lost a bet”, and took another drink from his strawberry daiquiri.

* * *

  _ **Favorite Pairing / Ravus**_

* * *

 

“Have you ever seen those two?” Prompto spoke lowly, as he walked. He and his friends had been dropped off just inside Lestallum’s halo of electric lights, by hunters they’d been assisting for the past few days. “Like, really watched them?”

“Uh-huh,” Gladio nodded. “Disgusting. I’ve seen grade school kids with first crushes, who don’t act that sweet and gross together.”

“Speaking of your own childhood, I’m sure,” Ignis remarked.

“It’s confusing as hell, too,” Prompto said. “They were soldiers? High ranking? But… just…”

“The nose-touching is so annoying,” Gladio appraised. “Who even does that?”

“What kind of con job were they pulling that two such… _cream puffs_  ever made High Commander and General?” Prompto wondered aloud.

“Is this conversation really any of your business?” Ignis asked.

“I’d have to say yes,” Gladio answered. “We’ve been having to put up with the whispering and the smooching and the butt-squeezing for the past three days.”

“And two nights,” Prompto added.

“It’s been weird to see that that cold bravado a ways back was all an act,” Gladio said.

“Oh yeah, the Gladio-tossing,” Prompto noted, ignoring a brief glare from the king’s shield.

“And you’re basing that assessment on…?” Ignis asked.

“Come on, Iggy,” Gladio scoffed, “nobody who’s all ‘my gem’ this and hand-kissing that is really the badass he pretends to be.”

“He’s a prince, Gladio,” Ignis reminded him. “Such formality is how he was raised.”

“So, what was Noct’s excuse?” Gladio asked.

“We were lucky enough to keep him from keeling over from malnutrition,” Ignis  grumbled. “I can’t imagine the war of getting his manners on Ravus’ level.”

“That’s weird, too,” Prompto said. “The walking grammar textbook dates a soldier with a sailor’s mouth? And he  _likes_  him?”

“I’d really rather not ponder Ravus’ enjoyments and the General’s mouth, in the same thought,” Ignis said.

“He has a point, though,” Gladio supposed. “It’s like a purebred show dog and a feral mutt.”

“Gods, I don’t ever want to see the puppies,” Prompto shuddered.

“Will you two stop this?” Ignis pleaded. “It’s not even possible for them to have puppies. Or, children, rather. Whichever. They’re weird. They’re dating. It’s none of our business.”

The three walked on along the Lestallum street, quiet in the early morning hours, and closed in on the public square that served as a hub for almost all of Lestallum’s streets, on their way back to an apartment that Gladio had been keeping in the town.

Gladio’s gaze shifted to the adviser. “You  _do_  know that Safay has a ut–”

“Finish that sentence,” Ignis threatened, “and you will be kicked out of your own bed, Amicitia.”

* * *

  _ **Touchy Subject**_

* * *

 

Set-up of the night’s campsite had been underway and going well. Supplies were in order for the night and the next day. Ignis had everything he needed for the night’s dinner laid out, where he could find them by touch. Prompto had collected enough fire wood to last for a good twenty-four hours, if they needed it. Everyone else had been cleaning and sharpening their sword and dagger blades, in preparation for the next day’s hunting, by the light of lanterns fueled with meteor shards.

At the sight of the wood, Ravus had taken it as a cue to begin collecting his affects, to take them and a lantern around to the opposite side of the massive tree they were all camped beneath. Libertus has asked him to wait for just a moment, in offer to help with the small move of equipment. Gladio had seen no reason to put off building the campfire as the two spoke.

A flare spell was used to set the kindling ablaze, and sparks flew with the whooshing sound of the burst of fire.

An instant later, Ravus was flat on the ground, from a dead faint.

Libertus had been only a few feet away from him, yet Safay still somehow beat him to the prince’s side. The soldier held a finger beneath the side of Ravus’ jaw, and found his pulse racing, despite his unconsciousness.

“Water,” Safay relayed to Libertus, as he pulled a folded green bandanna from an inside jacket pocket. Safay took a canteen handed to him and wet the cloth, to first move it slowly over Ravus’ forehead, and then lay it over his eyes when the prince began to come to.

“Oi, you alright there, Rae?” Libertus asked softly, with a careful touch to his left shoulder.

“What…?” Ravus rasped, disoriented.

“You blacked out and fell,” Safay informed him.

“Why would I do that?” Ravus asked, slowly.

“Who knows?” Safay downplayed. “Overworked, under-hydrated, maybe just one of those things. Come on, Highness, let’s get you settled more comfortably, for the night.”

Safay guided Ravus as he rolled to his side to stand, to face away from the campfire. Libertus handed the soldier a lantern, then went back for the weapons and equipment they’d been trying to collect before the fire was lit. Ravus appeared a little shaky on his feet, but was otherwise able to walk to the three’s separate campsite on the other side of the tree, under his own power.  
Before they left his view, Gladio caught an icy, narrowed-eyed glare from the General.

The next day’s hunting was perfectly normal, by all standards. Except, possibly, for Safay’s complete silence toward Gladio. It didn’t hamper either man’s work, no one else in their group mentioned taking notice of it, but it was just unsettling enough to approach the soldier, as Safay sat by a large rock, on a small break as he waited for a poison cure to finish the last of its healing.

“You, er, feeling better?” Gladio asked, as he stopped a couple of feet away.

“I’ll live,” Safay responded. It wasn’t sharp or curt, and that much was encouraging.

“Look,” Gladio began, “I want to apologize for what happened with Ravus last night, but… I’m not entirely sure what happened.”

“Pyrophobia,” Safay said.

“What?” Gladio asked, more from surprise than any lack of comprehension.

“He gets flashbacks from fire,” Safay elaborated. “Most of the time, he’s okay if a fire’s already going, but seeing a big one, or one starting? Not good. This one wasn’t so bad, really. He doesn’t remember it happening, and he didn’t come to, screaming or have any night terrors from it.”

“Holy shit,” Gladio remarked with a wince. “I had no idea that was a problem.”

“I know,” Safay shrugged. “I’m just pissed in general that it happened at all, but if I’d for one second believed you did it on purpose, I would have been ripping your organs out, one by one.”

“Don’t get me wrong,” Gladio began, “I’m glad it didn’t come to that, but… how do you know… what told you it wasn’t deliberate?”

“Regis,” Safay answered.

“Excuse me?”

“Regis wouldn’t have bothered telling you or anyone else about anything that happened the day Tenebrae fell, if it didn’t involve Noctis.”

“Meaning?” Gladio demanded, bristling.

“Meaning,” Safay replied, “that Sylva died, putting herself between her son and an MT’s flamethrower. Ravus had to watch her die, trying to save him; had to stay with her burned body, with a bullet wound in his arm, as Regis ran off with Noctis and Luna, and if Luna hadn’t let go,  _everyone_  who survived the initial attack would have left Ravus behind; and if Regis had ever told you that, you wouldn’t have used a fire spell right in front of him.”

“Well… why  _would_  he tell me? I was Noctis’ shield-in-training, not a personal confidant to the king.”

“Wasn’t your dad a personal confidant to the king?” Safay asked. “Wouldn’t he have told you, if Regis had told  _him_? Wouldn’t your dad have thought it important, as Noctis’ bodyguard, that there’s this other prince who blames Insomnia for betraying his family and you might want to be on guard?”

“Is this what Ravus tells you?” Gladio sneered defensively. “Excuses and little victim fantasies to justify not being strong enough to fight back?”

Safay stood from his seated position. The two inches he stood above the king’s shield weren’t much, objectively, but he took a small delight in seeing how much Gladio was trying his hardest not to notice them. Safay stared him down with leveled eyes and a barely quirked brow.

“Is that what Regis told  _you?”_  Safay posed in return, “that a king should never be questioned?”

* * *

  _ **What Are You Wearing?!**_

* * *

 

“What are you wearing?!”

Safay looked down at himself and his attire of cut-off shorts, a baggy white crop-top teeshirt, and knitted sea-glass blue legwarmers.

“…Workout clothes…?” he answered tentatively. The king’s shield did not appear to be convinced.

“Who in their right mind works out in jean shorts?” Gladio asked. 

“Well, me,” Safay shrugged.

“Just… how in the world do you stretch in those things, without them ripping and falling off?”

“They already did, actually,” Safay told him, as his fingertip traced along leg seams that were no longer there. “The thighs, specifically. That’s why I cut them shorter, and opened the outside seams: for better movement.”

Gladio continued to stare, but at least at the soldier’s face.

“What you made is practically denim underwear.”

“Janties!” a voice supplied from behind the king’s shield.

_“PROMPTO.”_

“Yeah,” Safay agreed, “…And? You’re wearing the bottom half of your pajamas.”

“These  _are_  sparring fatigues.”

“With no shirt. Which I see Libertus and Ravus are also lacking, and you’re not giving  _them_  hell.”

“Because sparring fatigues and no shirt makes sense for group training,” Gladio defended.

“You’re really making me wish I could see your problem, Gladio,” Ignis spoke up from the sidelines, with a grin. “Is a bit of bare leg really so distracting?”

“This is more than ‘a bit’,” Gladio protested. “This is… a bikini bottom.”

“Aw, I think he looks good,” Prompto added in.

“He looks like Cindy,” Gladio mumbled to the blond. “If Cindy had decided to bulk up, to kill daemons with her thighs.”

“Yeah, but Cindy looks good, doesn’t she?” Prompto asked.

“Would it help if I were dressed more like the rest of the boys?” Safay asked. His lower lip stuck out suspiciously in a slight pout. Prompto noticed, and his eyes, alone glanced from Safay to Gladio, who did not.

“If you would be so kind, yes,” the king’s shield said.

Safay grasped the bottom hem of his crop-top and pulled it up to take it off.

“THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT–”

A cessation of movement overtook the small group of men behind them, in the quiet dead end of the Lestallum alleyway. Safay again looked down at himself, and more directly, at where Gladio had grabbed for the edge of Safay’s shirt, to pull it back down. He’d missed, and now held his hands over Safay’s strong, rounded pectorals. Fate was clearly against Gladio this morning, with Safay’s pierced nipples directly beneath the middles of his palms.

“Um…” Safay began. Gladio’s face turned red, almost instantly. “Does this have anything to do with your discomfort?”

“It sure as hell does  _now_ ,” Gladio groaned in embarrassment. It turned to mortification, when he heard an all-too-familiar click.

“Aaaand, got it,” Prompto announced, mostly to himself.

“Prompto, what the fuck–?” Gladio demanded flatly.

“Hey, Noct’s gonna be back, someday,” the blond replied. “I want to make sure he gets the chance to see this.”

“And you can take your hands off, anytime now,” Safay reminded him calmly.

* * *

 


End file.
